


Forward To Times Past

by JuweWright



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: 2000s, 20th Century, M/M, PWP, Post-Hogwarts, Time Travel, Time Turner (Harry Potter)
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-01-28
Updated: 2019-01-28
Packaged: 2019-10-18 06:47:38
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,119
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17575922
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/JuweWright/pseuds/JuweWright
Summary: Draco finds a book in his cellar which ends up being a gate to the beginning of the 20th century - placed by none other than Gellert Grindelwald





	Forward To Times Past

**Author's Note:**

> This was written for "The Fairest of the Rare (18+)" group on Facebook as part of the #WILDweekends Roulette.

Draco Malfoy was cleaning out the basement of Malfoy Manor. He had postponed the task for years, but since one of the house-elves had mysteriously disappeared when fetching some wine a few days ago and the other servants had been quite upset because of it, he had finally accepted his fate.

As it turned out, most of the stuff his parents had stored in the murky darkness was completely useless trash. He’d enchanted a couple of huge cardboard boxes which were flying back and forth between a big dump in the backyard – which he’d later set on fire and bugger the regulations for private bonfires – and the room he was currently clearing.

Of course there had also been a few interesting objects among the rubble: A cup that was enchanted so you couldn’t actually drink its contents – extremely annoying and Draco thought about serving wine to Harry in it the next time St Potter came to visit - not one, but two enchanted necklaces, a Muggle pocket watch that had been magically altered so it rewound itself, a copper-kettle with residues of god-knows-what baked into the copper surface and a book that screamed when you opened it and which he'd probably also give to Potter as a birthday present some day.

Potter was officially assigned to help him find his way in this world of new-found Muggle-love and Pure-blood-hatred. But unofficially the man was clearly sent to have an eye on Draco. See that the Malfoy heir doesn’t get any great but possibly deadly ideas. The worst part of it was that Potter was still totally besotted by Ginny Weasley and hardly spoke about anything else but her and the child they had together. Draco had nothing against Ginny Weasley as such. She was one of the more bearable Weasleys. But he hated Ginny Weasley in her capacity as Harry’s wife. After all these years, he still couldn’t get his infatuation with the boy in check. Damn biology!

He tossed another useless candlestick into the box - which made a satisfied ‘hmmm’ sound - and dug both hands into a pile of books, pulling two out at random. He looked at the titles on the leather-binding.

“How to hatch Garden Gnomes” – Merlin’s pants, he remembered the summer Narcissa had made a half-hearted attempt at gardening. It hadn’t ended well for most parties involved (especially not for the Garden Gnomes though). The book joined the candlestick before Draco turned his attention on the other volume – and frowned.

There was no title printed on the leather front, nor on the spine. When he slowly opened it – half expecting a waft of poisonous ink – he noticed that the pages were thick and rough-edged. And empty as well. What the heck was this?

He let the pages run through his fingers and suddenly he imagined he saw something right down where the pages were bound together, three interlaced orbs and an hourglass. A timeturner? He leaned closer. There was whisper in his ear, a warm, full voice that seemed to radiate wisdom and youth at the same time: “Welcome, stranger!”

He leaned even closer until his nose almost touched the paper and then – the book pulled him in. He was literally swept of his feet and sucked into the book head first, hitting his head hard when he fell to the floor.

Not the dusty stone floor of the cellar at Malfoy Manor though. His fingertips touched wood and his eyes perceived the structure of old wooden planks. On the floor and above him. An attic? But what attic? How had he come here? What crazy enchantment had been in that book? And how would he get back?

“Welcome, stranger!” the voice from before repeated.

It sounded like a bronze bell and made Draco’s chest resonate. He rolled onto his back to see who that fascinating voice belonged to and beheld a tall, lanky man standing by the only tiny window. The evening light fell on him and made his hair, which was almost as light a blond as Draco’s and bound together with a piece of leather, shine like gold. An aquiline nose and very light grey – almost colourless – eyes dominated the stranger’s sharp face. The lips quirked up in a bemused smile as he held out a hand to help his visitor up.

Draco instinctively took hold of the hand that was offered and noticed a strong grip and long, narrow fingers. No callouses. He gave the man the once-over. Expensive fabrics, a shirt and vest and a pair of rather fitted trousers. All of it had originally been as black has his polished leather boots but looked a bit worse for wear. A black woollen coat was lying draped over a chair.

The attic had been turned into a home. There were two mattresses stacked on top of each other serving as a bed. An old writing desk with a scratched surface was sitting in one corner. A chair, a small table. It wasn’t much, but it was clearly good enough as a temporary habitat.

“I assumed it was time someone would stumble through again. It’s basic math really. Probability has it that every couple of days someone will come through. And they come from so many different times and backgrounds. It is fascinating. Only last year did I distribute the books and they have been a great success and a great relief for boredom. You know, staying in hiding, the days get quite long.”

The man had not let go of Draco’s hand and now lifted it up, inspecting the family crest ring on his finger.

“This is interesting. Just a few days ago there was someone here with just such a ring.”

He looked straight into Draco’s face who flushed under the scrutinizing gaze of the colourless eyes.

“Might have been a relative of yours. There were some similarities. Even though, I have to say, you are much prettier than him. Pray tell me what’s your name and which year do you come from?”

Draco had already managed to put two and two together. He had been pulled in by a book that functioned as a time-turner. Even though he had no idea as to how exactly that worked, he was impressed: Only a very skilled magician could meddle with time in this way without getting caught by the ministry or wreaking havoc on reality or both. But even though he was impressed and even though this man was incredibly fascinating and sexy and all kinds of alluring, there were basic rules you had to follow when talking to a Malfoy.

“I might well give you my name, but unless you give me yours first, I’d rather not. As for the year, I don’t see any harm in uncovering that. It’s the second millennium and I apologize for the state of my trousers, but I was tidying a cellar.”

The stranger’s eyes darted to Draco’s dust-covered knees. A hungry expression appeared in them.

“Oh, I don’t mind. They will look worse later on.”

He grinned and leaned over. Draco caught a waft of coal and something salty – ocean air? Were they close to the seaside? He tried to peek out of the window, but the nondescript city below could literally have been anywhere in the world. Not ANYWHEN though. 

“This is exciting”, his host carried on, letting his hands trail up Draco’s chest and gently touching his Adam’s apple. A light gesture, but the implication behind it was clear: This man was dangerous. Draco had felt it the moment he had set eyes on him. And he frankly didn’t give a toss. His body yearned for more of that touch, but the foreigner withdrew his hand.

“There’s almost a hundred years between us, my friend. And yet we’re here together. Isn’t magic astonishing?”

Draco nodded and followed the stranger’s gaze to an old-fashioned pocket watch that was resting on the desk, ticking away the time.

“I have tried again and again to explain this to my friend but he didn’t understand. He knows what we can do and how superior we are to those Muggles. They are like rats and we are the black cats that roam the streets at night. One hit of our claws and they will die. Our strength should make us rulers and emperors, but what are we doing? We’re hiding from them! We’re hiding instead of taking what should be rightfully ours!”

Suddenly, Draco’s brain caught up with the situation. He knew this man! He had read a similar excerpt from his public speeches before and it had struck him as a sensible thought if you looked at it from a slightly addled perspective. He understood how Gellert Grindelwald had become the man he was, obsessed with the idea of the omnipotent wizard. He understood and he feared this man equally. His thoughts and ideas had been the foundation on which Lord Voldemort had built his own belief.

“I’m Gellert,” said the man suddenly, holding out a hand to Draco again. “You are right I had not business demanding your name without giving you mine in return.”

Draco nodded and took his hand again.

“Draco,” he said.

Gellert tried to pull away but this time, Draco held fast. The other man raised a brow in interest.

“You made these time turner books so they would lead people here” Draco said. “What is the aim of that? And don’t tell me distraction. You’re not a man to get bored.”

Gellert chuckled.

“At first,” he said, leading Draco’s hand up to his face, pushing the back of it against the soft skin of his cheek, “… at first I wanted to learn about the future, hear how it all turned out. You know, change a small thing in the present and it will greatly affect what happens in the future. I have learned that I have a student. Someone I never met, but who followed in my footsteps and made progress to finally reach the target I set myself. I also found out he was defeated once – a black day. But he rose again and gathered new power. He was a great magician, someone with many skills.”

He relished in the thought for a moment, his eyes closed, then suddenly focussed on Draco again.

“But don’t undererstimate the distraction, Draco. I might dream big but I am not beyond mortal needs. Sometimes, my visitors were reluctant to follow my lead, but you seem a very… willing subject.”

Suddenly he pushed Draco against the wall next to the window, his free hand quickly, deftly opening his belt buckle and removing his belt. Draco drew a breath through clenched teeth, suppressing a moan. A few hours ago he had been trying to get rid of his everlasting thoughts of Potter by cleaning his cellar and now he was at the beginning of the twentieth century with one of the most dangerous wizards of all time all over him. Every inch of his body yearned for Gellert, who was still talking. Draco didn’t even know what he was saying, he just listened to the sound of his voice, this warm, enchanting growl, let Gellert grip his hair and pull his head back to lick his throat.

Then he twisted and in the next moment Gellert was in front of him, hands on his back. Draco snarled. He had learned one thing or two from the Death Eaters. He pushed the other man down onto the floor. Gellert struggled, turned and pulled him down on the lapels of his shirt, ferociously kissing him. A wild animalistic kiss ensued that ended with bruised and bleeding lips.

“You’re a delightful visitor,” Gellert growled as they drew breath. “You’re just like me.”

Draco knew what he meant. They were both starving, Draco even worse than Gellert who might or might not have had a visit from Lucius Malfoy earlier on in the week – in case of which, Draco was sure, there had not happened anything but an exchange of information as Lucius had no liking for men.

Clothes were torn as they proceeded in their feverish frenzy, ripping off shirt-buttons and kicking off shoes. It was a thunderstorm of desire that rolled over them, shooting them with lightning bolts the air around them singing with electricity. They worked each other up and up and further up until there was no space left for breathing and in a wild and primeval cry they both collapsed.

The clock from the bell tower down in the city struck the hour and as Draco’s vision cleared he was kneeling on the stone floor of Malfoy Manor’s basement, an old leather bound book in his hands which slowly crumpled into ashes.


End file.
